


Does This Remind You Of Anything?

by Serena_Rose



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Body Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmare Fuel, Not Quite Cannibalism but..., Other, Psychological Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serena_Rose/pseuds/Serena_Rose
Summary: My short Halloween-inspired Wump fic. After they lose the experiment and are sent to the Bad Place, Shawn invites Eleanor to have dinner with him.
Relationships: Michael (The Good Place) & Eleanor Shellstrop
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Does This Remind You Of Anything?

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Tumblr but am quite proud of how disturbing it is so here you go for all those not on the Hellsite! Can be read as either shippy or brOTP in regards to Hellstrop.

The last thing Eleanor expected when she was dragged from the portal in Bad Place HQ and separated from her friends was to be lead to a fancy dining hall. She’s made more than a few attempts to run only to be quickly grabbed by the demon heavies at every corner, to the point she decides just to follow Bad Janet to her fate.

The air chills her through her pink sweater that’s torn at the sleeve by now, even though there doesn’t seem to be any windows. 

“Ugh, look at you. Did you just crawl out of your mom’s hedge? Let’s get you cleaned up and looking good for the Boss.” Her obnoxious guide sneers at her before waving her hand.

Another blast of cold hits Eleanor as she loses her sweater and pants, replaced with the black dress she had been wearing the night before. Their final night.

She tries not to tremble, refusing to show weakness to the bitch next to her.

“Wow! You really can’t pull that off, can you, talk about washed out. Oh well, it’ll have to do.”

Eleanor just rolls her eyes. Do they really expect trash talk to have any effect on her self-esteem? No words from a stupid Bad Janet are gonna knock her confidence. They’ll have to try better than that.

The door on the other side of the room opens. Shawn steps in, wearing a suit to match Eleanor’s dress.

She clenches her fists.

“Ah. Miss. Shellstrop. How lovely of you to join me for dinner. Please, take a seat.” He says, cordially. 

She doesn’t buy it for a moment; “Cut the ‘polite evil villain’ crap, man. You wanna get on with torturing me old-school then do it. Don’t try this underhanded, psycho stuff when it isn’t what you’re into. Only Michael came anywhere close to being good at that and you just set him up to fail.”

“Now, now...Is it difficult to believe that all I want is to have a celebratory dinner with the leader of my competition after such an impressive feat?” Shawn asks, his hands up.

“Yes.”

“All right, I tried.” He shrugs; “Still, you might as well enjoy your last good meal, as the only thing you’re gonna be eating from now on will be wriggling or coated in acid. You’ve earned that much.”

“I’m not hungry.” Eleanor says, steeling herself for the worst; “Why just me? Where’s my friends? And Michael, what have you done with him? Is he being retired?!”

Shawn gives a chuckle and pulls his chair out to sit down; “Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t have Michael retired without planning the spectical he deserves, which takes a while to prepare. Those flaming ladles are not quick to heat up. I promise you, Eleanor, our friend Michael will be joining us very soon.”

No retirement yet. Her heart leaps with relief. That meant there might still be time. Time for her and Michael to try to escape together. They don’t have their Janet this time, her marble was sent back to the warehouse for rebooting. They’ll have to find her after they’ve managed to get the others and escape. Which they will. No way is she giving up yet, even if they did fail the experiment, even if they have no chance of getting to the Good Place anymore. As Michael said, they just need their one thousand and second idea, whatever that is.

She decides to play ball and takes a seat, glad there’s no whoopee cushion covered in needles waiting for her to sit on. 

Bad Janet, now wearing a slutty waitress outfit, brings out a silver plate with a cover on top, placing it before her, while an identical Bad Janet gives the same to Shawn at the other end of the long table.

Eleanor tenses with unease. 

“So whose head am I gonna find underneath then? I’ve already seen Hannibal, dude.” She tries to deflect.

Shawn smiles and waves his hand again.

The Bad Janets remove the coverings. The smell hits Eleanor’s nostrils before her eyes can take in what’s on her plate, served up in an enticing presentation.

“Seafood platter? Your favorite, I believe. As I said, it is intended to be a consolation prize.” Shawn tells her.

It feels too good for her to believe. So she doesn’t.

But, fuck, she is hungry...

“Are the shrimp gonna start eating me from inside, what am I looking at here?” Just tell her. Stop the preamble. 

“Oh no. You have my word. That might not count for much but I assure you, it will not harm you to eat. But if you truly insist, I can have it taken away.”

She should say so. Get rid of it. If she’s never gonna eat properly again then...

Oh, damn it. She’s too weak.

Eleanor picks up her fork and spears one of the pieces of fried shrimp before putting it into her mouth...Oh. Oh, holy fuck, that is good. It sends her eyes rolling back and way too much blood rushing towards her thighs as she has to eat another, and another.

When in Hell, right? If criminals on Death Row get to enjoy their last meal then why not her? 

“I knew you would like it.” She ignores her lame ass host over her food, not letting him spoil the final shred of pleasure she might have in her existence; “How’s the calamari?”

Eleanor gives a non-committal hum after swallowing a breaded piece.

“Well done and not too spongy, right?” Shawn describes; “That’s what’s good about fire squids. They’re already as cooked as they can be.”

She freezes.

“Truly the most difficult part is the slicing. It’s quite a challenge to get such tiny cuts from something six thousand feet tall, as well as washing off most of the juice while leaving just enough to add to the flavour. Especially considering how we demons stay conscious and are constantly aware of our pain when we're mutilated.”

Eleanor’s hands fly up to her mouth as she starts to shake.

“And our dear Michael sure does love to squirm when he’s terrified, doesn’t he.”

Her stomach heaves as she tries to choke up what’s already sliding down her throat, tears of horror pricking at her eyes.

The Bad Janets are snickering from the shadows.

Eleanor pushes her chair back and grips the table, glaring across at Shawn who is already shoving pieces of his own dinner into his mouth. Possibly, very likely, pieces of his former employee turned rival. Oh God. Oh no, no, no!

“What?” Her companion tilts his head; “I told you he’d be joining us soon.”

Shawn starts to chuckle, maniacally, watching Eleanor fall to her knees and sob through her violent retching.

Fuck! Fuck, no, please, no, **_no!_**

-

-

-

-

-

She wakes with a fearsome gasp for air, followed by screaming and clawing at her throat, trying to force up something from her empty stomach. 

It’s not until a pair of hands grab at her wrists to keep her still that the tears of distress fall down her cheeks, her mind still convinced that the horror she witnessed, that she consumed, truly happened. It’s not until she recognises the face in front of her and the voice trying to cut through the disturbed fog in her half-asleep brain that she can connect the dots to realise it can’t have been real.

If it was real when Michael wouldn’t be holding her. He wouldn’t be right here.

“Hey, hey...It’s okay. It’s okay, look at me, Eleanor.” His palm is against her cheek, bringing her focus directly on him, on his concerned gaze, “Just a bad dream, okay? You passed out on the desk there, I was just about to move you to the couch.”

She blinks, rapidly, looking around to check. No hauntingly large dining room. No Bad Janets. It’s just the office. Their office. With its windows looking out to the night sky and their neighbourhood. 

She reaches out to grab at his jacket.

“We...It’s not over yet? W-we didn’t lose?” 

Michael’s eyes widen; “Boy, I sure hope not or that would suck! It would be kind of a deck move for Janet or the Judge to not let us know we missed the deadline, huh.” he forces a smile and strokes her face, wiping a stray tear; “We’ve still got a few months to go, Eleanor. It’s okay. We haven’t lost yet, I swear.”

Her breathing is still short and stilted from the fear. She feels her hands up Michael’s chest, his shoulders, to his face. Making sure he’s all there. Held safe within his skin suit.

Not...sliced and diced.

“Everyone’s safe, right? We’re all good? And you....” She takes a sniff and reaches to take his hands from her face to hold them in front of her, giving them a firm squeeze to double check; “...You’re here. You’re okay? He didn’t...Oh, fork, Michael...!”

Her voice breaks. She can’t begin to explain how much the stupid nightmare has managed to shake her up. How forking terrified she felt at the thought of losing...

Losing everyone...

“C’mere. Let me reclaim the chair for a sec, yeah?” He gently tugs her up so he can slide in to sit down on the leather seat before pulling her back onto his knee. 

Eleanor curls against him, still shaking like a leaf, fingers clinging onto his shirt as she rests her leaking face against his chest.

“I thought we lost.” She confesses; “I thought I...lost you, bud...”

She feels Michael’s fingers move up to the back of her hair, clutching her close. She knows he’s probably wishing that he could promise her that won’t happen. But there’s no way of being sure he could keep that to her. He’s very careful not to lie to any of them after what happened last time. Complete trust and honesty going forward.

“Shh, just a bad dream. We’ll try our best to make sure it doesn’t become reality, right?” It’s the best he can do, sliding his arm around her back to keep her close.

She nods; “R-right...We’ll sort out Brent and then we should be fine. Damn it, I’m not letting the Bad Place get any of us. I’m not letting you get retired, ever!”

“That is very good to know, thank you.” She almost hears his smile.

Eleanor snakes her arms around his sides and hugs him tighter than she’s hugged anyone before.

“And I don’t care how good you taste, I’m not letting you get deep-fried and served with shrimp.”

That one probably didn’t bring a smile and she feels his hand still for a few seconds between stroking her hair. Thank fork that demons don’t sleep or else she probably would have influenced him to have the same nightmare.

One thing is for sure. She won’t be eating seafood again anytime soon. 


End file.
